


Get Them Drunk On Rose Water (BRENDON URIE)

by RockWithItWriting



Category: Panic! at the Disco, brendon urie - Fandom
Genre: Brendon Urie - Freeform, Other, Panic! at the Disco - Freeform, reader - Freeform, you - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-23 00:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7460301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockWithItWriting/pseuds/RockWithItWriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Word count: 1605</p><p>Requested: Yes</p><p>Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, some aggression, cursing</p><p>this starts really angsty but then it gets fluffy too. enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Them Drunk On Rose Water (BRENDON URIE)

The party was in full swing, alcohol burning through your veins, adrenaline pumping through your system.

You were glad that you invited Brendon.

He looked less amused than you felt, looked more like he was forcing himself to have fun. You barely felt bad, too trashed to care, but it wasn’t your fault that Brendon wasn’t having any fun.

He was the one who offered to be the designated driver for you.

That let you get completely wasted, nearly dead on your feet when the party began to wind down and Brendon decided it was time to go home. He wrapped you loosely in his arms, leading you to your car. You fought getting put in the seat, fought the seat belt, but when Brendon shut the door you finally gave up and relaxed into the leather of the seat. The car was cool and the warm breeze from outside made you shiver when Brendon opened the door.

“You’re drunk,” It wasn’t a question, but a grumbled statement that showed how Brendon truly felt, “And we are nearly an hour away from your house.” He started the car, engine rumbling in the night.

“Yeah, so?” Your head lolled to the side, eyes unable to focus on Brendon’s side profile, “That just means we get someone to spend time together.” He scoffed and pulled onto the road, traffic nearly nonexistent as it was nearing the early hour of four in the morning.

“Yeah, but I’m not getting any sleep tonight.”

You giggled, running a finger down Brendon’s arm, “It’s morning, Bren. The sun is going to come up soon.” He glared at you out of the side of his eye, scoffing once more.

“I know.” He growled, “And that’s why I wish I was in my bed instead of chauffeuring you home from a damn party.” You felt the anger in his voice and recoiled, body finding a home against the door of the car.

“You didn’t have to go,” After a long silence you finally spoke, your tone betraying your hurt, “I could have asked anyone else.” Brendon was unaffected.

“Yeah, why didn’t you?”

“Because I wanted to spend time with you!” The outburst startled Brendon, his arms jerking and causing the car to swerve. He glanced over at you, righting the car, before he gaped.

“Yeah, right, you wanted to see me.” He seemed dubious, like he didn’t believe you. Maybe he didn’t want to believe you, “I highly doubt that,” It was your turn to snort, fiddling with the seatbelt as you tried to avoid looking at him.

“It’s true,” Your anger had died down, replaced by something akin to drunken confidence, “I want to spend time with you all the time, Brendon. It’s like, it’s a disease. Or maybe like, an infection.” The words were jumbled and slurred, like your tongue couldn’t work properly under the influence of alcohol, “It’s embarrassing, actually, because you seem to hate me.”

Brendon looked over and cocked an eyebrow, lips turning down into a frown, “Who says I hate you?”

“You do; the fact that you said you’d rather be in bed than spending time with me.” Brendon, once more, scoffed. Should you start keeping track of how many times Brendon scoffed? You would probably run out of fingers before he stopped.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to spend time with you,” He grumbled, “It just means that I don’t want to spend time with you like this. You’re drunk and I’m pissed off because I have to go to the studio in the morning, in three hours, and I have gotten no sleep!” He slammed a fist against the steering wheel.

“Well, I’m sorry I invited you in the hopes we could do something together.” It sounded too suspicious, the way your voice lifted at the end, the way your eyes crawled along his jawline. Brendon knew what you meant before you knew what you meant.

“What did you want us to do together?”

“Bond,” You admitted, “I wanted to bond with you.” You were lying, and you weren’t very good at it. At least, not when you were drunk. Brendon seemed to know that, to see the lie on your face.

“Bond,” Brendon repeated in a tone that you couldn’t read, “How would we bond?”

Even drunk, you could tell that he was analyzing you, fishing for something to help him flesh out the situation. “You know, talk.”

“Sure,” Brendon was smiling, the car slowing for the stop-light he was rolling up to, “You just want to talk? Sounds like bullshit. You want something more.”

“Yeah, I do. In fact, I do.” You sat up, brazen enough to grab onto Brendon’s elbow, “I do want more.” It was a tense moment and then someone from behind beeped, the sound breaking through the night in a way that was wrong. Brendon pushed his foot down on the gas, easing forward, “I want something more from you, but I can’t tell you what it is.”

Brendon snorted, but maybe it was a scoff? And then he shook your hand off, “So what’s the point of telling me that you can’t tell me?”

“So you know,” You shrugged and tried to control how easily your moods were swinging, the way that your thoughts were floundering for some semblance of balance. “I want to tell you.”

“So tell me,” Brendon was back to sounding aggravated, like he was struggling to keep his cool, “Don’t just bait me with this shit. You’re better than that.”

“Oh, right, that’s why you’re treating me like a child.” You snapped, arms crossing over your chest, “Complaining about driving me home when you volunteered to be the designated driver; you know I would have let you get drunk and I would have drove, right?” Brendon was silent, “But, no, you told me that you were going to drive me home if I got drunk. So I got drunk, and now you’re driving me home. It’s simple.”

“Right, I’m treating you like a child because I’m helping you.” He nodded, “Just stop embarrassing yourself, go to sleep.”

“Okay, for one, calm down and stop telling me what to do. It’s hard to think you’re handsome when you’re shitting all over me.” The no filter effect of the drinks you had also made you misstep over what you said, not realizing until Brendon’s eyes found yours and his brows furrowed.

“Handsome?”

“Yes, handsome. Do you have a problem with that? I think you’re incredibly handsome, and very nice when you want to be. But right now? Not so much. You’re kind of being a dick right now, and I’m very pissed off and I do not want to go to sleep because I want to be able to look at you while we’re still talking. I know in the morning you’re going to remember this before I do, and you’re still going to be angry.”

“I have no problem with that, trust me,” Brendon nodded and then smiled. It seemed like you weren’t the only one shifting moods too fast to be considered safe, but Brendon’s mood changes were most likely caused by how tired he was. “I just didn’t know you felt that way.”  
  
“Now you do.” Your body shifted until you were looking over at him, glowering at the side of Brendon’s head.

“Do you like me?” You half expected his tone to be joking, making fun of you, but it was a genuine question.

“Yes.” It was simple, the answer echoing in the silence of the car cabin; the only other sound was the breathing of the both of you and the rumbling of the car around the road. Brendon seemed to cage his reaction, hiding it well. The only thing that gave him away was the way his lips seemed to turn up at the corners.

“You do, do you?”  
  
“I just said yes,” You snapped, “What more do you need? Me to spell it out? I will.”

“You’re drunk.”  
  
“You’ve said that.”  
  
“You like me.”

“I’ve said that,” You were tiring, but getting edgier. Brendon had that effect on you, bringing out things you didn’t want to say, things you didn’t want him to know. You wondered, in a haze, if you would even remember saying the things to him, “Okay, look, I get that you’re going to get a huge laugh out of this in the morning, but I just wanted you to know that I genuinely do like you, Brendon. I like basically everything about you, alright? You’re nice to me, most of the time, and you take care of me and yeah, you bitch, but you don’t actually give a shit if I get wasted and you have to drive me home.” The silence of the car seemed to boom louder in the absence of the car and Brendon had to struggle not to look at you.

“I didn’t know you felt like that,” He admitted, “If I would have known, I would have…”  
  
“You would have what?”

“I would have been nicer, treated you better.” He admitted, taking one hand off of the wheel to place it on your thigh, “Or maybe I would have gotten drunk with you and made Dallon take us home.”

“Why would you get drunk?”

Brendon stopped at another light, turning and grinning at you in the dim light put off by the shining, red bulb. “So I can kiss you.”

He leaned over the center console, lips slotting against yours for a mere second before the light turned green and he continued on his journey to take you home.


End file.
